


Fire of my Blood

by Elementalist



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elementalist/pseuds/Elementalist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Red Waste bakes, the sun seems to never set, and, in the distance, one would swear the cries of dragons echoed over the desert sands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire of my Blood

Overhead, the sun blazed a thousand times brighter than any star. It boiled the land, dried it to dust and fine ash, burning the whole of her _kahlasar_ under its unblinking eye.

The air felt thin, hot, and bloated with dirt and the promise of death. Behind her, her people shuffled, complaining under their breath of the heat. Never out right, never for long--Dany’s people were strong, the strongest she had ever known. But even they had their limits and for that she forgive their unhappy whispers.

In truth, the Red Waste did not settle well on her own skin, which had been baked beneath the sun to a golden hue, akin to the Dothraki colors. She felt even more the part now, if it were any matter that she looked like the rest of her women, children, and gentle older men. A robe of tanned flesh for a dragon, hiding scales and onyx claws.

Her charges rattled in their cages, hissing and sputtering, calling down the heat. They enjoyed it well enough if they were allowed out into the free air. Drogon especially like to flex his mighty wings out to let the sun catch and seep into the thin membranes, warming him over and throughout. 

He was on her shoulder now, hissing at the sky. Claws as sharp as daggers dug down, breaking her flesh as easily as butter, and withdrew with trails of bright blood. Catching the scent of it, Drogon let out a cry. A sunburst of fire escaped his jaws.

Dany barely winced at the pain, though her handmaids fretted over her. “Calm your worries,” she told them as she went to put Drogon away, in the cage with his brothers. “These are not wounds for you to fuss over.”

Yet still, they used a small amount of wine and the cleanest cloth to cleanse the wound free of blood and grit despite her words.

They were her people, after all, and they loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> The challenge was 'blood'. A common Dothraki saying is "Blood of my blood" and Dany's house words are "Fire and Blood", so really, there was no contest who I was going to write for this word.


End file.
